


1.3 hurt/cmfrt.cmdX1337CYBERSPACEXXXDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

by thefatandthefurious



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Comforting Each Other, Depression, Drinking Tea, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Friendship, Gender neutral Charakter, Hurt/Comfort, In Character, No Spoilers, Other, Slice of Life, Social Anxiety, Struggeling together, You and Elliot are Friends, friends - Freeform, really just hurt/comfort scenarios
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefatandthefurious/pseuds/thefatandthefurious
Summary: Everyone needs friends, right? Sometimes You and Elliot don't meet for a very long time. Sometimes you just hang out with each other. Sometimes it's nice. Sometimes it's intense. Sometimes you wonder, if you care to much about him. But he is teaching you chess without screaming at you, he has a very cute goldfish called Qwerty, his taste in music is actually quite cool und sometimes on good days, when he was able to go to the store, has some really amazing tea at home. It's a No-Brainer for you actually.[Genderneutral You and Elliot trying to be friends despite the fact that.. that Life is sometimes hard, you know?]
Relationships: Elliot Alderson/Reader, Elliot Alderson/You
Kudos: 12





	1.3 hurt/cmfrt.cmdX1337CYBERSPACEXXXDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I have to admit: I wrote everything on my own, except for the title of the work :) Thanks a lot Cutiepie!  
> I just wanted to have a place to upload my various You/Reader headcannons as fleshed out little ficlets. As you can see, I don't have an upload schedule, sorry in advance folks!

Your mobil phone comes to life with an awfully deep buzz. It scares you and your whole body jumps. You wouldn't have thought that someone would message you today, so you take out your phone with mixed feelings. It’s a message from Elliot, asking you if you have time for him right now.

He never asked you so explicitly to meet him, so your stomach churns in anticipation. Normally it’s you, who contacts him first because you know how easily he forgets about the world around him, especially when he is in work-mode.  
He wants you to come to his flat, so you pack your stuff that you always have with you in a huge brown messenger bag, grab your headphones before you forget them. The last time you went out in purpose you had to listen to all kinds of private talk in the subway and you are not in the mood to get confronted with other people’s problems. 

You stare in the mirror for the last time before you leave. You are wearing a huge soft jacket, protecting you both from the cold outside and from the possible penetrating stares of people near you. No scarf, because the feel of it on your neck is like choking. You smile at your preparations, because they remind you of an adventurer who prepares for a potentially hostile jungle.

While you take the tram, you ask yourself what Elliot could possibly want from you. The two of you talk on a daily basis, in an encoded private chat, set up by Elliot himself. There is no need for him to see you in real life, you think.  
He doesn't go out much, except for his job and you are not that great in face to face communication, so normally that works well for the both of you.

It will be the first time for a long time since you two had seen each other. Suddenly confronted by your mind with how extraordinary all of this is, you get a bit nervous, and a bit of sweat gets on the iron pole in the subway, where you try to balance yourself to not to fall on any other passenger.

Elliot doesn't open when you knock the door. 

Of course he doesn't, he is probably still working on some project that he took home from work.

You knock louder, it must have been very important if Elliot breaks your routine like this. The door swings open from the force of your knocks and you enter hesitatingly while you announce your presence.

Elliot is hunched over his huge pc set up, his dark silhouette is enlightened by the two computer screens dominating his work desk. You can tell from a quick glance that he is thinner than the last time you saw him. You know that he is not a delicate man, but still he looks so fragile, being illuminated by the harsh artificial light like this. His posture looks strained, his shoulders are shaking a bit. 

You don't know, why he doesn't react to you standing in his flat and you feel a bit irritated at the prospect of being ignored, so you take of your jacket, discard it together with your bag near to the sofa and you take a seat.

"Can you make some tea please? “, Elliots rough, smoky voice interrupts the silence. Something sounds off of it, but you can't put your finger on it. There is an underlying tone to it, something is happening and you don't know what.  
So he had heard and seen you, but choose not to acknowledge you. This is entirely not like him, so you decide to not call him out on his behaviour. Instead you get up, and go to the kitchen of his run down flat. You simply start to prepare tea. You think that he could probably use some sugar, so you search the shelves for cookies or some chocolate. 

There is nothing in it, except for some Japanese instant noodles and some old, flaky tea leafs. At least Elliot has disposable paper teabags. You make a mental memo for yourself, to remind him to eat better. You prepare everything for the tea but your mind is not really there. You would like to do something, you are worried, but you don’t know if you are overstepping your boundaries. You can't wait for the water to boil. You want to go back into his living room, take care of him, and ask him what’s wrong, why he would need you.

After you put the camomile tea into two huge cups, you head over to the living room again. Elliot is still seated in front of his computer and you cannot help but feel annoyed right now. It’s unfair, you know that already, but his behaviour is scaring you somehow. You wish you could do something, just anything to make the situation dissolve. 

You put the cups on the coffee table and sit down on the sofa. You are not sure if you should ask, not sure what is needed from you right now. So you just continue to sit there.  
Elliott’s rough voice is nearly inaudible as he decides to speak again.

"I took too much. I lost control of my movements. I can’t move anymore."

Elliots husky voice would cut through the silence, if it would have more power. Now you know, what felt wrong to you about it in the first place. His voice sounds dry, he is literally croaking. He must have been in this posture for a very long time and that was probably the reason why his shoulders were shaking in the first place. 

You immediately ask if he talks about his morphine consumption. Of course you know about it, he chose to tell you on one particular Saturday evening as both of you were holed up in your respective rooms, hiding under your blankets, connecting through the phone how you always do when the thought of people, the concept of going out and meeting someone is too much. 

He told you that he needs it sometimes, to make the thought carousel of his stop, to make his mind a place to be cosy, to revel in good thoughts for once. To make the ugly thoughts stop. To shut out this voice inside of him, that looks down on society and is filled with so much hate for everyone, including himself. To feel hope, even though it’s only produced by pharmaceutical pills. He told you that he wants something nice for once, some feelings that would connect him back to his life. You tried to talk him out of it, tried to provide him with other methods but he had been very insistent that nothing else would help him like morphine did. 

You get up from the couch again and walk to his workplace in short strides. You know now, that you have to do something. You get next to his chair and take a look at him.  
Elliot is staring into the monitor right in front of him, but there is nothing to look at. It’s only his empty, organized desktop. You come closer but you make sure not to enter his field of vision. You try to be calm, to not make it sound like you are about to freak out. You are no expert in narcotics and you don’t know what to do. 

You ask him if you should call an ambulance.

He makes a dismissive sound. 

You ask him if you should help him out of the chair.

“I’m not sure”, he says, “I need to get out of the chair”, his voice springs at the end, “. I don’t know what happens, when I move. Maybe everything will pour out of me, like molasses out of a sugar cane and then there is nothing left of who I thought I would be”  
A shiver runs down your spine, as you hear him say all those things without any emotions at all. Elliot sounds mechanical. Empty. You decide to take action. 

You tell him, that you will help him come to the sofa. That he doesn’t need to be scared, because you are here now. You also add, that you are about to touch him now. You always warn him when you are about to do it, so that he could always consent or not. You know that he is scared when he can’t control the environment around him. 

Elliot makes an agreeing sound. 

You put one hand on his biceps and the other hand on his arm and push. Elliot can’t seemingly leave the posture on his own, so you need to assist him. You put his arm down slowly until it hangs loosely from his side. You do the same thing with his other arm until he is only held up by the tense position of his back.

You put out your hand and let the palm of your hand slowly run down his back. You do it, to warm him up, to make him used to the feel of being touched by another human being. Afterwards, you start rubbing small circles into his back with the palm of your hands. The circle grow bigger until you take your other hand to mirror the movement. Soon, both of your hands are touching his back. You feel his backbone sticking out from his hunched position and you know now for sure that he hasn’t been eating properly

Elliot makes a noise rather on instinct than on purpose.

Now you put your arms around him. You make sure to leave an opening for him, so that he could always run if he would wanted so.  
But he doesn’t seem like running now. It’s exactly how he said it would be.

His body is flowing out of the chair, piece by piece. But you are here. You are here to catch him and you are strong enough to do so.  
Still you are struggling with his additional weight as the both of you make your way to his sofa. You can’t see his face.

You can feel Elliot’s nose digging into your shoulder blade as he puts his head in the crook of your neck. It tingles, but you are not in the mood for laughter. You just continue to hold him. His black sweater feels nice under your fingers. Soft and also still faintly smelling like laundry detergent. 

Suddenly a sound. It starts out as simply mumbling but the sound continues to gather strength only to evolve into something one could only call a shriek. A shriek that sets so deep into your skin, that your whole body is covered in goose bumps. It is not a scream, even though there is so much agony inside of it. It is not wailing, because it is filled with too much emotions. It is Elliot, who makes that sound. It’s the sound of a human grieving. It rattles your bones, with how desperate he sounds. You feel the soft and thick material of your sweater slowly growing wet and you continue to hold onto his body like you would hold onto your own life.

He cries, he cries so much. His body is shaking with intense emotions. Your fingers are trembling slightly as you thread them through his soft hair and gently caress them. You feel the softness of his longer black curls. You want to tell him something. You want to tell him that everything is okay, that you are here now, that you can take care of him. But you don’t say a word. You know, that you can not always promise to be around him and so you refrain from making false claims. You are here right now, and this is what matters the most. 

Elliot shivers, and his arms around you press him against you even harder. You gasp, because you tend to forget how strong Elliot actually is. You tell him that it’s a bit too much and Elliot looks at you with those big green eyes. There are huge red circles under them. It doesn’t mix with his waxen skin. He hasn’t taken care of himself properly while you were away. You feel your heart burn inside your body. It hurts you to the deep end to see him in such a state. The pressure from his arms goes a bit down, and he uses the new flexibility to nestle closer to your neck.

“Did I scare you?” he asks some time later.

His gruff voice sounds even rougher from all the emotions that flowed out of him. You can tell with one glance that there is nothing left inside of him but pure raw insecurity. You tell him that stuff like this happens. You shrug. You tell him that it’s no big deal for you. Suddenly Elliot is moving again, his limbs pressing all over you until you let him go. He slides away from you until he reaches the end of the sofa, Seems like he is back with you and conscious of his surroundings. He doesn’t look you in the eye.

“Bullshit. Fucking Bullshit”, he mumbles and stares down to the ground thin lips pressed together.

You sigh. You have already expected this. From your previous chats you know that he often tends to hate himself after an intense emotional breakdown. You remember when he told you about the fights with his sister. You tell him that there is no set of the rules for an emotional breakdown. You also remind him of the unrealistic pictures of crying in movies. You gesture at him and ask him if he would like to gaze away into the distance like Ryan Gosling and shed a single dramatic tear?

Elliot somehow snorts.

You start talking shit about Ryan Goslings movies. You can’t seem to stop yourself but that is okay. You see Elliot’s face softening slowly. If it has to take you shitting all over Goslings actor career to ground him, it’s perfectly fine with you. Your rant evolves into a general critique of the 21th century cinema in general. You know that you sound like someone’s grandparents now, but you don’t care. It seems to lighten up the mood between the two of you. You just try to provide him with some normalcy.

It feels like the aura of potential future fights is dissolving slowly. You are glad that he seems to like your passionate ranting about things.

“You know I hate that fake shit”, he rasps and shakes his head. You admit, that you already knew that. With anyone else the situation would be awkward. But it’s Elliot and you, so it’s fine for you.

Elliot nods, and takes a quick glance at you. You just continue to drink your tea. Minutes pass. The room is completely silent, except from the occasional slurps from you. You start to relax into his soft sofa. It did took a toll on you to see him this way. Of course, because you care about him. So the sudden quiet atmosphere is nice for you and soothes you as well.

Elliot is relaxing slightly as well. He slumps down, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, legs in a somewhat open position, not trying to hide himself or to make himself smaller. He is just simply sitting there, sipping his tea too.

Later on, Elliot will throw the leftover tea away and put on “The dark Side of the Moon” from Pink Floyd. You are already gone by then, but you know that you will see each other again.


End file.
